


The Archives

by The_Disaster_Tiefling (Akiko_Natsuko)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Backstory, Blood, Blood and Injury, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Fantasy, Magic, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-01-05 20:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18373571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/The_Disaster_Tiefling
Summary: A collection of DnD stories from the campaigns I am involved with.





	1. Asrani (Mhuirn DnD Campaign) - Four Winds Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Asrani escapades

 

    Despite the recent revelations and his increased concern over the true meaning behind his job here, Asrani enjoyed wandering through the streets of Mhuirhaven. It was a place he only knew from tales, and it made for a nice change of pace from life back home, especially since Elian’s growing paranoia had meant that he was rarely allowed to roam far. He still hadn’t worked out whether it was because of his skills, or because of the old adage of keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It didn’t really matter, one way or another, he supposed as he reached up to check the ring around his neck – he would never be worth anything in their eyes. His ‘skills’ granted him a certain amount of freedom, as long as he did his duty and accepted his place, and he scowled, knowing that he was lucky Elian had yet to get to the point of demanding a cone of truth to be placed around him.

   Attempting to distract himself, he glanced around. The dilapidated stretch of warehouses and the cramped dwellings of those too far down the food chain to do more than eke a living from the sea and streets had finally given away to more civilised houses, and up ahead he could see the hustle and bustle of a market area.

    It was easy enough for him to meld into the crowds here, no one sparing a second glance at a man who bore the marks of a long journey. It allowed him to let his gaze rove across the various stalls, seemingly fascinated by the local wares, while out of the corner of his eye, he noted faces, particularly those of the guards that passed. Both their weapons and armour had seen better days, and watching as they pushed their way through the milling people, seemingly blind to the pickpockets that he had spied upon entering, and a fight that had broken out on the far side of the square, he realised that they were neither a threat nor of use to him. He had heard of the local ‘arrangement’ by where the crown forces turned a blind eye to the less than savoury activities of some of the locals, while the thieves guilds and the Shadow kept the peace, but it seemed as though at some point that had become lost, and now the guards had no purpose to their duties.

   Shaking his head, wondering what would become of the city when the Shadow was removed, having seen places rise from the ashes, or tear themselves apart from the inside when a power vacuum was created, he was about to move on when he felt the lightest of tugs against his coat. At once, he whirled, a dagger appearing in one hand, as the other shot out to grab hold of a young boy who had one hand still outstretched from his attempt to pickpocket. There was a desperation in the thin face, and even as he tried to wiggle free his fingers twitched, still reaching towards their goal. “Don’t even think about it,” Asrani advised the boy, tapping the dagger against a skinny wrist, not enough to do damage, but a warning. “You should learn to pick your marks more carefully; some people actually know how to use their blades.” He glanced up to see that the guards had moved out of sight, although he doubted very much that they were among those who could use their blades in this city, and sighed, before sheathing the blade and studying the boy.

     He was small, and Asrani guessed that he was older than he looked, hunger and the harshness of life on the street no doubt stunting his growth. And while there was fear at having been caught, there was no shame and a spark that told him how the boy had survived this long. “Next time choose a target that’s haggling or at least talking to someone, that’s when they’re most distracted. And don’t go for the most obvious target, because they’re rarely the most profitable.” He reached down, rooting through the pocket the boy had been aiming for, before pulling out a handful of coins and holding them out. There was a pause, wary eyes darting between his face and the coins in his hand, and he could tell the boy was searching for a trick or a blow, and he held himself carefully still, expression deliberately blank, remembering a time when he had been in that position.

_The sword had been held out to him, and he had wavered, eyes locked on the blade. It was something he had been working towards for months now, and part of him wanted nothing more than to reach out and taking it, knowing that if he were finally being allowed to wield a real blade, then maybe Elian and the others would finally see him as more than a cursed child that shouldn’t exist. The other part was wary, because there was a gleam in the Training Master’s eyes, that he had come to associate with the worst training sessions of his life, the still tender scar on his back a reminder of that fact._

_“Take it.” The Training Master’s voice was implacable. It was a command, and he knew from painful experience not to disobey, and so despite the leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach, he obediently reached for the blade._

_His fingers had barely brushed cold steel, before it moved, slicing into the tip of his finger, before the blade was flipped, rushing towards his vulnerable face. He’d scrambled backwards, desperately trying to escape its reach, but he had been too close, and there was no way for him to avoid it as it’d slashed across his left eye, leaving a sickening burning sensation in its wake, the world disappearing behind a veil of crimson._

Small fingers brushing against his drew him back into the present, and he forced himself not to move, even though the memory had left him wanting to flinch back from the touch. Instead, he watched, unmoving as the boy’s eyes darted to his face once more before he snatched the coins and bolted away into the crowd before he could be stopped, not that Asrani had any intention of stopping him. Instead, he watched until the boy passed out of sight, just in case any of the guards had noticed and decided to actually try and intervene, but there was no sign that they had seen, or if they had that they cared, and when the messy brown hair had disappeared from sight, he shook his head and moved on. For all that his teachers and ‘family’ had tried to drill it into him that he wasn’t to care about people beneath their station – theirs, not his – his lips drew back in a snarl, feeling the weight of that distinction even now, he did. Knowing but for the blood that ran through his veins, he would have been one of them.

It would probably have been preferable.

*

    The sight of the Four Winds did little to improve his mood because the building in its sheer extravagance was impossible to miss. Even up here in the wealthier part of the town that he had been reluctantly directed towards after asking passer-by’s who’d looked at his travel strained clothing and undoubtedly thought he’d be laughed back into the port area, the building towered above the rest. It stood floors above the highest houses around it, a monolith of white rock which he doubted had come from the local area, with wide, ornately decorated windows, and rich azure banners that fluttered in the sea breeze. It was almost enough to make him turn back and find another tavern to take shelter in, but the burn of the ring around his neck reminded him of why he was here, and with reluctance in each step, he made his way towards the doors.

    There were guards on the door, but unlike the ones he’d seen in the marketplace, these were alert, and their armour and weapons were well tended, hands straying to the hilts of their swords as he saw them. Slowly he drew himself up to his full height, supposing that he should be grateful for the lessons that had been drummed into his skull from the moment he could talk, even as he felt like a stranger in his own skin, as he met their wary gazes without hesitation.

“Let me pass.” It wasn’t a request, and he knew that his tone and voice were not what they were expecting, lifting an eyebrow when they hesitated. He knew that he hardly passed for their usual clientele at the moment, but there was little he could do about that right now, instead, letting his hand fall to rest near his sword. Not directly threatening just yet. “I am weary from travelling and would like nothing more than to be out of these clothes and clean for the first time in days. I would prefer not to have to fight to achieve that, or to have to report to this establishment that I was turned aside as it would sour my business here.” He could see them wavering and decided to soften his approach a little, after all, there was no point in creating extra enemies. “You may accompany if you desire, them your honour would be satisfied, and my wishes will be fulfilled.”

    They glanced at each other, a silent conversation passing between them before the one on the left relaxed his stance and nodded. “Very well, I will accompany you to the desk clerk, but rest assured that if you cause any trouble, you will be forcibly removed.” It would almost be interesting to see if they could support their words, Asrani mused even as he nodded in agreement, gesturing for him to lead the way.

*

    The outside of the Four Winds paled in comparison to the interior he realised as he followed the guard inside, stepping into a marble-floored foyer, framed on all sides by huge, towering marble pillars set with ornate, silver swirls that glistened in the sunlight streaming through the large windows. Plants and low settees were set at intervals between the pillars, several of them occupied by richly dressed figures that eyes Asrani with a mixture of alarm and disgust as he trailed the guard towards the half-moon desk at the base of a sweeping double staircase that rose behind it. Ignoring their stares, entertaining himself by imaging what they would do if they knew just who he was, he moved to the desk as the guard stepped aside, still watching him carefully.

    Behind the desk was a male half-elf, dressed in a simple uniform of a blue tunic over white pants, and a cream half-cloak over one shoulder. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in many inns, at least those of a certain quality, but Asrani could see that the material was much too rich. He supposed it should be a good sign that even the employees benefited from the apparent wealth of the Four Winds, but all he could think about was the boy in the marketplace, and the children in the port. And he had to fight to hide his distaste as he reached into his bag, narrowing his eyes at the guard who had tensed, before pulling out a heavy pouch. “I require a room for at least a week, and a hot bath as soon as possible,” he declared, using the same tone he had adopted with the guards as he tossed the pouch carelessly on the desk. “I trust that won’t be a problem.”

    The loosened tie on the pouch gave way as it hit the desk, allowing the platinum pieces to spill out over the papers in front of the half-elf, who paled, sharing a quick glance with the guard who murmured something that could have been an apology or an excuse, before retreating and leaving them alone.

“Of course not, Sir,” the clerk managed to sound offended, even as he began to reach for the pouch and sort out the coins, clearly intending to hand back the excess and Asrani cleared his voice.

“Keep it,” he ordered when the half-elf looked at him. “I may need to extend my stay, depending on how my business goes.”

“Very well,” he tidied the coins away instead. Asrani knew that there was a lot more there than necessary, but it was of little concern as it didn’t belong to him, and considering what this job was turning into, they would have no room to complain about him splurging. Besides, looking at the clerk, he knew that he had just found a source of information because there was a hunger in the eyes that lingered on the pouch for a minute, before he seemed to remember himself, sitting upright and reaching for a leather-bound volume and the pen next to it. “There are just some details to take care of, may I have your name.”

“Asrani.”

“It must be a full name.” There was a note of wariness this time as the half-elf pressed for a proper answer, and Asrani hesitated. He was reluctant to give it. But he disliked hiding behind false names, and there were doors that his name would open, that words and swords wouldn’t and without missing a beat or letting his reluctance bleed into his words he nodded, voice deliberately low as he replied, shifting his coat aside as he did to reveal the sword hilt. 

“Asrani D’Thorne.”

“D…” Asrani’s gaze narrowed in warning, and the half-elf swallowed nervously and inclined his head, scribbling something down on the paper, before tilting it to show him that it was illegible. Waiting for an approving nod, before murmuring.  “Very well, My Lord. I will arrange for someone to show you your chambers,” he reached out and rang the tiny bell sat in front of him, and Asrani waited for him to set it down, before his arm shot out, grabbing a delicate wrist in a grip that could turn bruising in an instance.

“Since I can see that you recognise the name, should I find any unwanted company at my door during my stay,” Asrani murmured, leaning in close so that only the clerk would hear his words, aware of the others in the foyer. “I will hold you personally accountable, is that understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

**

    It had taken him nearly an hour to settle into the chambers they’d given him, a large bedroom separated from a small lounge area by a muslin curtain that swayed in the breeze from the window he’d thrown open as soon as he’d been left alone. To the side was a bathroom that was much too large for a single person, and probably the only part of the overly extravagant room that he appreciated, especially as he found that the deep tub set into the marble floor was already filled to the brim with hot water. It had been a welcome indulgence after days of having to make do with whatever water he could scrounge onboard the ship, where cleanliness was of little importance, and he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the way in. Surprised that his words had been enough to get him inside the door because he had been a mess, his hair matted and windblown, his clothing stained from travel and exposure to the elements. He had looked no better than the men he had seen passed out drunk in the tavern by the port.

     The man who stepped back into the bedroom, freshly shaven with a towel wrapped around his waist, was a far cry from the dishevelled man they’d allowed in even with his hair wet and curling wildly around his ears. As tempting as it was to throw on his comfortable, travel-stained clothing if only in protest against the extravagance, he knew that he needed to make a good impression if he was going to stand a chance of getting his hands on any useful information. Dumping the soiled clothing in a basket by the door, he upended his bags and rifled through the rest of his clothes, for once glad that he had allowed Riya to help him pack as he found some of his finer clothes buried under the more practical ones.

     Towelling himself off, he pulled on soft, black leather pants, and a luxurious, vermillion shirt that was fine enough to show he belonged here, but wouldn’t be much of a loss if or when he ran into trouble, remembering Riya’s anger when he’d returned with the tunic she had given him torn to shreds. The memory brought a smile to his lips, especially as he ran a finger over the light, barely visible embroidery on his left arm, her way of giving him her colours to where without betraying either of them. _Soon,_ he thought, even though that dream felt as far away as ever, and he let his fingers fall away, as he reached for his boots, sitting on the edge of the bed and yanking them on with more force than necessary as he tried to distract himself.

    A leather doublet finished the outfit, a deep ash grey, embossed with delicate, silver roses around the collar and wrists, with a larger one in the centre of the back. It spoke of money, but the emblem was less recognisable than the one of the hilt of his sword, and he would take what anonymity he still had left. Finishing with the buttons, he reached for his sword belt. He wasn’t about to go utterly unarmed in a strange place, although he did cast a longing look at his shield as he buckled the belt into place, before discarding the thought of taking it with him. There was no point in looking as though he was in search of a fight after all, although, after a moment of hesitation, he did slip a dagger inside the doublet.

_“What would I do with a dagger?” Riya asked, staring at the small blade he had slipped into her hands as though she had never seen one before. Asrani wasn’t fooled, having seen her take on the leader of one of the local thieves’ guilds factions when he had started making trouble for some of the people in her street, and he lifted an eyebrow at her._

_“Protect yourself.”_

_“That’s why I have you,” she teased even as she slipped the dagger into the folds of her dress, reaching out to grasp his hand and pull him in close. “My secret Knight.” He let her pull him into a kiss, fingers tangling in her dark hair, allowing her to distract him, but not before he whispered against her lips._

_“Still, keep it close…”_

“As close as you,” he murmured, repeating her laughing response and feeling a pang at the reminder. Even before this mission, they’d had little enough time together, as there had been more eyes on him than usual and he’d refused to risk her safety despite missing her fiercely. And she had been the one to sneak in to see him. Having spent precious coin on a disguise spell so that no one could connect the dots between the well-dressed human who had visited him, and the Tiefling apothecary that he’d been sent to silence after she’d spoken out against the royal declaration that only humans were to be permitted to practice medicine in any form within the walls of the city. It had been the first time he had disobeyed a direct order, and if his deception, let alone their continued involvement was discovered, then no dagger would be able to stop their heads from ending up on the wall.

He didn’t regret it, but it made him highly aware of the low burn of the necklace and gripping it with a grimace he headed for the door. It was time to see what he could find out.

     The woman who had guided him to his room had made sure to show him where the lounge area and dining room were in passing, and it was to the former that he headed, lips quirking up in a smirk as the desk clerk passed him looking startled by the change in his appearance. He didn’t speak to him, but he let his hand rest on his hilt, a reminder of the threat he’d made and from the way pale eyes darted away the message had been received.

   The lounge lay behind ornate wooden doors, inlaid with delicate gold, and as he pushed them open, he wondered if the people of Mhuirhaven knew exactly how much wealth lay behind the doors of the Four Winds. Probably not, he mused, stepping into the room. Otherwise, they would be banging on the doors, and there weren’t enough guards to suggest that there had been trouble. Either that or the Shadow held more sway than he’d been led to believe, which he didn’t particularly want to consider as it would make his job a lot harder.

    The room was busy, and while he didn’t catch anyone deliberately watching him, he knew that his entrance would have been noted. He let his gaze rove across the room, trying to maintain an expression of idle interest, even as he noted faces and weapons, trying to catch any eyes that flickered towards him or tension. Nothing caught his attention, but there was an itch between his shoulder blades that told him he was being watched, and not wanting his wariness to be detected he headed for the long table that ran the length of the left side of the room, holding a selection of beverages and finger food. A young girl, in the same uniform as the half-elf immediately stepped forward to serve him without a word, gaze carefully averted, as he indicated a decanter filled with honey-coloured mead. Accepting the glass with a murmured ‘thank you’ that wasn’t acknowledged, he meandered away, sipping it and appreciating the taste after the grog he’d forced down earlier.

     His path took him between the most crowded tables, and while he appeared distracted, letting his gaze wander as though searching for something or someone, he was listening intently. Much of the conversation he heard was the mind-numbing business of the rich, worries about affairs being discovered, threats to their wealth – which generally meant they had lost a handful of gold on a deal, talk about future alliances and marriage. It was a little too much like home for his comfort, and he found himself taking a gulp of the mead, trying to numb it a little more. Realising that his act wouldn’t hold up much longer, he headed towards an empty table near the window, settling into one of the seats, and turning his attention out of the window, noting the keep that was visible in the distance with curious eyes.

“…That’s another ship lost.” He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sat there. Long enough to empty one glass, and for the silent girl to reappear and refill it before he realised that a larger table to his right was now occupied, their conversation sounding a little more interesting than the what he’d heard so far. Shifting as though trying to find a more comfortable position, he glanced at the other table. The speaker had a high, nasally voice that grated on his nerves, and wore his wealth like a badge of honour, his clothes looking more like a theatrical imitation of what a rich person would wear. There was a woman sat close enough that she had to be his wife, although by comparison, she seemed to have adopted the adage that less was more, looking positively plain next to her husband, but beautiful in her own right.

     The others were a curious mixture. A young woman, who seemed to be an elegant counterpart to his wife, and Asrani wondered if she was their daughter, and there were a couple of younger men that looked as though they were high-born bodyguards. There was wealth there, but nothing quite as obscene as the speaker, and yet watching them, he would have said that the power lay with the two men sat opposite them. Separate and distinct from the rest of the group, wearing well-worn leather armour and matching, wide-brimmed hats that helped to hide their expressions, who appeared to have stiffened at his words. “…I have ordered all my ships to remain in port until this is resolved…”   One of the other men said something, but as he was facing away from Asrani, the words were lost. Their impact wasn’t, and he watched with interest as the pompous man turned purple and seemed to swell with rage. “Why should I pay the price for the Shadow’s inability to deal with the problem?”

    Asrani’s eyebrows rose at that, both at the indication of trouble but also at how easily, and freely they were bandying around that name. It was one thing to be directed here because the inn had connections to his target, it was something completely different to realise that working in the shadows might not be possible.

“Dearheart,” his wife spoke up, focused on the men and Asrani’s hand shifted to his sword as he saw the threat in their posture. Whatever else they were, their loyalty the Shadow was evident, as was the fear they caused as her husband followed her gaze and paled. “Please, he means no offence; however, it was a costly attempt. The ship held a valuable cargo that we were unable to unload before the attempt, and it sank beneath the waves along with it.”

“You speak out of turn,” her husband growled. “But she is correct, this will set back my deal in the Capital considerably, and I was promised…”

“You were promised a reward if your men succeeded.” The young woman that Asrani had thought might be their daughter spoke up, curt voice cutting across his words, and there was steel beneath the words. She was used to be obeyed. “They failed, and so did you. Your loss is of no concern to us, or to the Shadow, and you should count your blessings that you will not be further punished for your failure.”

“What about the people who were sent to deal with the problem?” Asrani had heard enough, the words bursting out before he’d thought about what he was doing, and he silently berated himself for it as all eyes turned towards him. However, there was no turning back now, and he rose, draining the last of his drink before turning to look at them, eyes resting on each face in turn, before falling on the young woman who looked shocked. Idly he wondered how long it had been since someone had dared to interrupt her, realising that silence was spreading out around them, the entire room no longer pretending to be blind to his presence.

“Pardon?”

“What are their lives worth?” Asrani replied. “More than that cargo? Or that ship? Did they know what they were facing, or that they would pay the price of failure?” He held her gaze as he spoke, but there was nothing, no flinching at the accusations, no remorse, and it wasn’t the distance and disinterest born of nobility. It was something colder, and cruel in it’s intent and he took a step forward, hand slipping to his sword. “How many people have paid the price for your failures?”

“You dare,” she hissed, and now the mask of nobility melted away, giving him a glimpse of what lay underneath, unsurprised to see the couple leaning away from her, fear written across their faces. “Kill him.”

“Is this really necessary?” Asrani asked, unfazed by the command or by the sight of the two men rising to their feet, keeping half an eye on them as they moved to frame him. His attention riveted on the woman who had risen too, a hunger in her eyes, and he sighed as he drew his sword. “This will be another failure on your shoulders,” he informed her, knowing that his words were on point as her expression contorted, dark with rage.

“Kill him…”

     Whatever skill the guards in Mhuirhaven lacked, these men had it to spare Asrani realised, thinking longingly of his armour and shield as he danced backwards out of reach of their swords as they swung for him with a unison that came from working together for a long time. As good as he was, he couldn’t parry two blades at once, and instead, he danced backwards out of reach, distantly aware of the other people in the room backing up to give them space as he traced a sigil of warding in the air in front of him. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and he had barely felt the magic take hold before he was moving again, slipping into the space created as they realised their lunges had fallen short.

    His first thrust was parried, and he had to duck beneath a swing from the other man, even as he lashed out with a booted foot. A sharp kick to his target’s knee, earning him a grunt and sending the man stumbling back, given him enough room to whirl and parry a second swing from second, muscles tensing as their blades locked, neither of them willing to give ground. Their eyes were blank. At that moment they existed only to follow her orders, and he felt a small pang, wondering if that was by choice or whether they were like him. It didn’t matter though, because right now they were after his blood, and he had no intention of feeding them, sensing movement behind him, and he jerked his elbow back, feeling the crunch of bone as the blow struck home.

    It was a blow that would have downed most people, but not these two and even as he grappled with one, he felt the one behind him recover, twisting to the side just as a sword pierced through where he had been a second before. And not without injury, he released, feeling a sting along the side of his neck, and the warmth of blood a second later. Knowing that this wasn’t going to be a fight that ended at first blood, he ducked and rolled clear of the pair, surging back to his feet and moving to put one of the walls at his back, not keen to get caught between them again. A glance across at the woman showed that she was leaning forward, bloodlust written across her expression as she met his gaze, and he tipped his head to her, acknowledging the strength of her champions before shifting his attention back to the men.

    One of them was now sporting a bloody nose, with a clear break in the middle, and the blankness was gone, a spark of anger slipping in. That was good, it meant that he would be a little more careless this time as Asrani doubted they had been in that position before, and he slid into a ready stance, sword perfectly still before beckoning them forward with his right hand. “Let’s end this quickly shall we?” They didn’t need an invitation, and despite the anger, they moved with the same fluidity and unison as earlier, coming at him from both sides, and realising that might be easier said than done as he glanced down at his sword.

It was time to even the odds.

    His voice dropped, falling into the low, guttural growl of Infernal as he barked a command at the sword, feeling the hilt beginning to shift and transform in his hands. He ducked to the left, feeling one of the swords biting into his arm, but discarding the injury, as he swung his weapon up to parry the second blow, catching the other sword on the small hook protruding from the base of the newly transformed glaive. A quick jerk to the side freed both weapons, and he was faster to recover than his opponent who was caught off guard by the shift in the weapon, and he swept the glaive back in the other direction. The worst of the slash was parried, but he felt the tip bite into flesh just as the man doubled over with a sharp cry, and gathering his strength he threw himself forward, forcing the blade in as deeply as he could. Blood welled, and he gritted his teeth as he yanked it sideways. It was a death blow, and a mercy strike, warm blood splattering his front as he tore it free.

    There was no time to watch his opponent crumple, as there was an enraged roar behind him and he was bodily tackled from behind, the glaive knocked from his hands as he was slammed into the wall, and he saw it revert to a sword as it hit the ground. The collision dazed him, not that he was given a chance to try and get to it, as rough hands spun him around, before laying into him with bruising ferocity, and he bit back a growl as he felt his lip split, blood filling his mouth. However, he made no effort to shield himself from the flurry, as the press of his assailant had reminded him of the dagger concealed in his doublet. Letting himself go lax under the onslaught, he let his hands slip lower, fumbling with the ties, his head ringing as a particularly hard blow had his head rattling off the wall, but he didn’t stop. Finally managing to wrap his fingers around the hilt of the dagger, Riya’s voice echoing in his ears.

“For what it’s worth this isn’t how I like to do things,” Asrani murmured, the words tugging on his injured lip and swollen cheeks, lifting his eyes to meet his assailant’s before he thrust the knife home. The man attempted to pull out of the way, but he’d spied the movement a second too late, although he’d moved just enough that the blade caught more leather than skin. Baring his teeth at Asrani as he moved, snarling as he wrapped his hands around Asrani’s neck, grip slipping slightly as he encountered the blood coating his skin.

    The grip tightened, cutting off his air and he frantically tried to pull the dagger free, but his fingers slipped as the press of fingers against his neck turned bruising. Choking, aware of the eyes burning into them, he fought the urge to scrabble at the hands throttling him, and instead, he pressed back into the wall, bracing himself for what he was going to attempt. Dark spots beginning to dance across his vision as he pressed a foot back against the wall. _Riya, please let this work,_ he prayed, knowing that she would be rolling her eyes at him if she knew what role she played in his prayers, before he shoved, pushing himself off from the wall at the same moment that he lunged forward.

   For a moment he thought that it wasn’t going to work, the grip around his neck tightening. There was a roaring noise in his ears, his vision turning darker, and with a roar that came out as a strangled, broken noise around the fingers pressing into his skin he flung himself forward again. Blunt nails left bloody furrows across his neck, a desperate attempt to hold him in place, but it was no match for his desperation as they toppled over, Asrani shifting so that his weight fell on the dagger at an angle just before they hit the ground hard. He felt the jerk as the blade bit deep, and he forced himself to watch the ugly flash of realisation in the man’s eyes, fingers tightening for a last desperate attempt before his hands fell away, and his eyes rolled up.

    There was no relief in the victory, and for a long moment, he lay against the body, sucking in desperate breaths and deciding that he wasn’t going to take it for granted ever again. As the darkness began to clear from his eyes, and sound returned, he slowly pushed himself up, grimacing as he realised he was covered in blood. Shaking he reached out and retrieved the dagger, grimacing as it caught but persisting until it was free, flipping it around until the blade rested against his wrist as he staggered to his feet, eyes moving back to the woman.

 “I believe.” It hurt to speak, and he coughed which hurt even more, reaching up to massage his throat, pain blossoming under his trembling fingers. “I promised that this would be another failure on your shoulders, and I kept my word.” He tilted his head towards the bodies, highly aware of the eyes on him, but not letting his focus waver from her, seeing the rage, the bloodlust and finally a hint of fear. That was the emotion he had been looking for, and he moved, sheer stubbornness holding him steady as he went and retrieved his sword, slipping it back into its sheath, but keeping the dagger at hand as he walked towards her table. “Now, if you don’t want any more failures, why don’t you tell me about this ‘problem’ that is worth so many lives.” Only a slight widening of her eyes told him he’d caught her off guard, and he smirked, reaching down to scoop up one of the men's hats, setting it on his head as he came to a halt in front of her. “Despite your deplorable concept of cost and worth, I believe we could help one another.”

 

 


	2. Asrani (Mhuirn DnD Campaign)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asrani - is a Human Variant Fighter, who has yet to meet the rest of the party. So this is a brief glimpse of what he is up to at the moment (plus teasing the rest of my party with some backstory hints)

 

 

    It was a relief to step off the gangplank and feel solid ground beneath his feet once more. He might be used to travelling by ship, his stomach long since hardened against even the stormiest waters, but that didn’t mean he didn’t prefer the security of land, especially after weeks at sea this time.

    Feeling movement at his elbow he turned, one hand slipping to the hilt of his sword and then past it as he reached for the small pouch hung next to it as he found the First Mate staring at him, hand held out expectantly. He didn’t bother counting out the coin, knowing that there was more than the agreed-on price in the pouch, and not wanting to give them a chance to fleece him out of money, well aware that there had been more than one attempt to rifle through his belongings while he was onboard. He could see the disappointment in the beady eyes, and the way they flicked the haversack slung over one shoulder, and he allowed his hand to slip back towards his sword, although he doubted the man would be daft enough to start anything.

“Keep the extra,” he says carelessly, before turning away, although his muscles are tense, ready to leave aside if he picks up on the slightest hint of danger. Instead, there’s a string of curses, most of which he doesn’t understand – which is probably a good thing, and the sound of the man spitting on the ground behind him.

_Charming…_

     He doesn’t look back, but he does let his hand fall away from his sword, tugging his cloak closer so that it’s wrapped about the hilt, obscuring it from view. He didn’t harbour any hopes that his arrival had gone unnoticed, and he was reluctant to do anything else that might attract unwelcome attention, although thankfully there were few people in the Empire, let alone out here on the very periphery that was privy to his existence. However, there were enough, and there was a couple of things that he knew could have unfriendly eyes focused on him, and as he headed further into the docks area, he reached up to check that the ring hanging from the woven cord around his neck was securely hidden beneath his armour, before reaching up to flatten his fringe.

    That taken care of, although he thinks longingly of the disguise kit hidden in the bottom of his bag, he focuses on his surroundings. Mhuirhaven is a lot smaller than his home, but after long days trapped on a ship, it seems vast, and for a moment he’s tempted to forget about what he’s doing here and just go exploring. Just as he had on the rare occasions that he’d managed to escape his ‘carers’ and slip away into the city, but the urge is quickly quashed because even this far from home he knows that he’s not beyond their reach. He’s already lost a lot of time due to the journey, not aided by the storm that had sent them off course, and as though summoned by his thoughts there’s burning against his chest, the ring heating up for a moment. It’s not enough to leave another scar, so it’s just a warning this time.

A reminder.

    _As though I could forget,_ he thinks with no small amount of bitterness, and there’s an echoing ache of pain at the base of his spine, and he fights the urge to rub at it, not wanting the reminder that will come from brushing against the raised ridges of the scar.

    Instead, he presses on, letting his gaze drift over the faces that he pasts. It’s almost a shock to see such a multitude of races in one place, and the ache seems to swell as his gaze lands on a pair of children, wearing ragged clothes dart here and there between sailors shifting cargo to and from the ships. Neither are human, and yet beyond the odd shout of warning and a threat of what will happen to them if they steal anything, there is no reaction to that fact, and they’re laughing. The little girl who looks to be half-orc from the greenish skin and tiny tusks that protrude from her grinning mouth, grabbing hold of the Tiefling boy’s tail to slow him down, resulting in them both ending up tussling on the ground, giggling louder.

    It’s harder than he cares to admit dragging his attention away from them, and from the bitter thought of _why couldn’t, I have had this?_

    Shaking his head, he turns his attention to the adults. He’d done his research on Mhuirhaven, and he knew that the Empire had little to no influence here, for all that the town played its part in adhering to the main rules of the Empire, which meant that he was going to have to find his target using less than official sources. That’s fine, he can work with that, and it would be nice to at least pretend that he was free of the Empire for a little while, but first he had to find where to begin, and unfortunately, much of the noise around him was in a blend of tongues that he didn’t recognise. However, that was little more than an inconvenience, and he ducked between two warehouses. Stepping behind a pile of stinking crab cages, as he slipped a hand into the pouch on the other side of his belt, wrinkling his nose as he rubs the salt and soot together between his fingers, his other hand deftly tracing a sigil in the air in front of him.

    He knows the spell has taken effect when the unintelligible voices, shift and become words that he understands, although considering that the first comment he catches as he emerges from his hiding place is about the girls at the local tavern, he’s not sure that’s a good thing. Still, it’s enough to glean a few things – such as there having been an increase in trouble within the city recently, rumours and whispers of conflicts amongst the underbelly that’s not really an underbelly in this place. And more than once he catches the name that had brought him here in the first place ‘The Shadow’. He almost snorts at the moniker, but he doesn’t, because there is respect as well as fear in those whispers, and considering most of the people in the docks look hardened whether, by life at sea or life in Mhuirhaven, he assumes that it is at least a little warranted.

    It also warns him to be cautious, the direct approach that he would typically favour will likely not go down well here, especially if they learn he is of the Empire…or worse, who he is. Which is why when he finally approaches the inn the sailors had been talking about, he buries the urge to grimace at the state of the place, and the smell of stale ale and ever staler bodies as he steps inside. He won’t be staying here, that’s for sure, but for now, it’s an opening, and he pastes his most charming smile on his face as he reaches the bar, eyeing the Drow barkeeper with a small amount of caution that he hopes won’t be out of place here.

“What can I get you?” The suspicion is returned it seems, and he dials back the smile a little and straightens, not enough to be threatening as he doesn’t doubt that she has some weapon concealed nearby and he’s not keen on needing to be patched up after just entering the town.

“Anything that’s not grog,” he replies, tossing a coin onto the bar. It’s not hard to feign the desperation behind that request, his stomach tying itself in knots as he recalled the foul-tasting, worryingly thick alcohol the sailors on the ship had favoured. Something in her expression softens, the suspicion fading a little as she nods, and he waits until she’s reaching for a worryingly murky looking bottle to add softly.  “And hopefully some information.” She freezes at the words, and he’s quick to slide more gold across the bar. Keeping the coins hidden from the view of the rest of the bar, although the quick glance he’d taken on arriving suggested that they were all so far in their cups that they wouldn’t know what day it was, much less notice what he was doing. Still, caution was the better part of valour and all that.

“A lot of people seem to be after information at the moment,” her voice had lowered, and she’s just as cautious as him as she reaches out to snatch up the coins, and they disappear into a pouch on her belt before she sets a tankard in front of him. “It will depend on what you want to know…?” She uses the cover of pouring the drink to ask, and he falters for half a second before realising it’s a test of sorts – information for information, and it’s not as though his presence isn’t already known.

“Asrani.” There’s no way he’s risking either surname right now, but after a long lingering look, that makes him wonder what else she sees when looking at him, she nods.

“Information is a weapon here, one that cut deep and both ways…”

    _Sounds just like home,_ he thought, as he accepted the tankard and took a sip. It burns. However, it’s better than the grog, and he swallows it and nods. “I would expect nothing less.” Idly he wondered whether the secrets and plots of Mhuirhaven can come close to those at court, it would make the job more interesting and time-consuming, he thought, still feeling the sting of the burn on his chest. “Something simple to start with then, is there a tavern closer to the centre of town? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with Mhuirhaven.” Nice and diplomatic, he thought, not wanting to offend her, although there was no way he would stay in this place, and he had a feeling that she had read between the lines as there was a hesitation before she replied in a tight voice. He weighed the three names, noting the slightest waver in her voice when she mentioned ‘The Four Winds’, and filing that away as his target before he took another sip, fighting back a grimace, before adding in a suitably low voice. “And if someone was looking to make some contacts, regarding business in the Citadel?”

    The suspicion was back, and slowly he pulled back his sleeve on his right arm, turning it over so that she could see the tattoo on his wrist. It was still a sore point, but the resentment that he felt over it had become an old pain, one that was easily swallowed as he saw her study it for a moment before relaxing once more.

“You could try Myrva at the apothecary off from the Four Corners – the main market area,” she expanded catching his confusion with a roll of her eyes. “However, with a mark like that, you will probably find what you’re looking for at The Four Winds. If they’ll let your sort in…” He knows that’s not what she means, but his hand twitches and he barely manages to stop himself from reaching up to check his fringe is still in place. 

“They’ll let me in.” He can see her doubt and knows that she thinks that he’s going to crash and burn, and he makes a note to drop by on his way out of the town if he got the chance. He liked breaking expectations, and he took a last mouthful of drink, the taste a little more bearable now, although that was probably just a sign that it had destroyed his taste buds, before rising to his feet. “Thank you for your assistance…?” He echoed her query from before.

“We’re not that friendly.”

“You wound me,” he retorted, tossing her an extra three gold, this time making no effort to hide it. He wasn’t going to get anywhere by remaining hidden, he just had to be careful what he let the eyes on him see, and he flashed her a wink and smile, before heading for the door with a jaunty step. And it was only due to the lingering effects of the spell that he caught her reply, whispered in undercommon just before he slipped through the door.

“…Kiera.”

*

     As he made his way towards the edge of the port area, he let the chatter wash over him, listening for anything that might be useful before the spell ended. However, when he eventually heard something that piqued his interest, it was in common and saw him shrinking into the shadows between two buildings, eyeing the strange group that had just emerged from a nearby warehouse although they were doing their best to blend in. Not an easy task, as more than one of them bore the signs of a hard fight. However, he was much more interested in what was being said, leaning forward as much as he dared without revealing his position, eyes locked on the speaker – a human by the looks of it, and certainly the most normal in the group, although the robes had him hesitating, easily recognising the garb of a Priest of Vran.

“This is all so much bigger than us. The shadow and these people working against them to summon Vecna. The necromancer we fought is one of many. We have to stop them. Resurrecting Vecna cannot happen.” _So that’s why they sent me,_ he thought, sinking back against the wall, hands clenched into fists at his side.  He had thought that the excuse for this mission had been weak, although he knew that ‘The Shadow’ had been causing concern for quite some time, but enough to send him out here without a keeper? Now it made more sense, and he really wished it didn’t – knowing what would be expected of him and feeling bile rising at the mere thought of it.  “I want to go back to the Temple and find the High Priestess, seek her guidance. I still don’t want to ally with the Shadow… but it looks like we might have no choice.”

   He’d heard enough, waiting until the half-elf with the priest spoke up, before slipping away under cover of their conversation. He had no interest in seeking out the help of the Gods, even if this job was now threatening to step outside the bounds of his experience. They’d never answered his prayers before, even though he had spent long hours as a child, pleading for their help… for them to undo what had been done, without as much as a whisper of response, and he refused to believe that would change now.

    No, he was going to be alone in this, and as he made his way up into the main town in search of the Four Winds, his hand fell to his sword hilt still hidden beneath the cloak. For once not sure that it would be enough to deal with what lay ahead, and there was anger now as he reached up to grip at the ring hidden beneath his clothes.

_Damn you, Elian…_

 


End file.
